Bar-20 Days eBook

Johnny lost his grouch so suddenly and beamed upon
his friends with such a superior air that they began
to worry about what was in the wind. The suspense
wore on them, for with Hopalong’s assistance,
Johnny might spring some game on them all that would
more than pay up for the fun they had enjoyed at his
expense; and the longer the suspense lasted the worse
it became. They never lost sight of him while
he was around and Hopalong had to endure the same
surveillance; and it was no uncommon thing to see
small groups of the anxious men engaged in deep discussion.
When they found that Buck must have been told and noticed
his smile was as fixed as Hopalong’s or Johnny’s,
they were certain that trouble of some nature was
in store for them.

Several weeks later Buck Peters drew rein and waited
for a stranger to join him.

“Howdy. Is yore name Peters?” asked
the newcomer, sizing him up in one trained glance.

“Well, who are you, an’ what do you want?”

“I want to see Peters, Buck Peters. That
yore name?”

“Yes; what of it?”

“My name’s Fox. Old Jim Lane gave
me a message for you,” and the stranger spoke
earnestly to some length. “There; that’s
the situation. We’ve got to have shrewd
men that they don’t know an’ won’t
suspect. Lane wants to pay a couple of yore men
their wages for a month or two. He said he was
shore he could count on you to help him out.”

“He’s right; he can. I don’t
forget favors. I’ve got a couple of men
that—­there’s one of ’em now.
Hey, Hoppy! Whoop-e, Hoppy!”

Mr. Cassidy arrived quickly, listened eagerly, named
Red and Johnny to accompany him, overruled his companions
by insisting that if Johnny didn’t go the whole
thing was off, carried his point, and galloped off
to find the lucky two, his eyes gleaming with anticipation
and joy. Fox laughed, thanked the foreman, and
rode on his way north; and that night three cow-punchers
rode south, all strangely elated. And the friends
who watched them go heaved signs of relief, for the
reprisals evidently were to be postponed for a while.

CHAPTER V

THE GHOST OF THE SAN MIGUEL

Juan Alvarez had not been in San Felippe since Dick
Martin left, which meant for over a month. Martin
was down the river looking for a man who did not wish
to be found; and some said that Martin cared nothing
about international boundaries when he wanted any
one real bad. And there was that geologist who
wore blue glasses and was always puttering around in
the canyon and hammering chips of rock off the steep
walls; he must have slipped one noon, because his
body was found on a flat boulder at the edge of the
stream. Manuel had found it and wanted to be paid
for his trouble in bringing it to town—­but
Manuel was a fool. Who, indeed, would pay good
money for a dead Gringo, especially after he was dead?
And there were three cow-punchers holding a herd of